Patron Saints of Lost and Impossible Causes
by loveiosa
Summary: Twelve weeks, twelve boys, one camp. All running from one thing. Can they dodge the closet-yankers and still keep both them — and their romances — alive? [Full/Actual Summary Inside! Trigger Warnings Inside!]


**Author:** _Holy-Ball-China_

 **Title:** ' _Patron Saints of Lost and Impossible Causes'_

 **Summary:** _Ludwig is gay. Ludwig is gay and his parents are incredibly Christian. Now, he's stuck at Saint Jude's Homosexual-Recovery Camp with a handsome counselor, an irate Italian and his cute younger twin, and a pretty Frenchman with a flair for makeup. There's also a tiny boy with a contraband ring and a pair of bespectacled boys — one that definitely isn't gay —_ _who wouldn't know requited love if it slapped their asses and broke their noses. But as shit is stirred up, what's a guy to do other than live life to the fullest?_

 **Pairings:** _AmeCan, FrUK, SpaMano, DenNor, PruAus, SuFin, GerIta, AmeGer, FraGer, etc._

 **Warnings:** _Homophobia, internalized homophobia, use of slurs, slight disrespect for seriously conservative and pole-up-the-butt Christians, assault, cursing, crossdressing, dubious-consensual sex, age-difference of six years, ace-spectrum-phobia, fascism._

 **Credit:** _All characters used in this work of fiction are not owned by myself, but by Himaruya Hidekaz._

 **A/N:** _Hey guys, my ass is back. I wanted to write something to celebrate my return, so here you go! I am actively writing, so don't worry about it being discontinued. Support is welcomed — and wanted, too — so please feel free to drop a review. Also, expect gay puns. Plus, headcanon that Japan is a bug-collector, I don't care you ca me on this. In the summary on the outside of this story, there's a term I used called 'closet-yankers.' It's basically a word me and my friends use for the (homophobic) people that intentionally pull people out of the closet. There aren't only those types of fascists in this story._

* * *

 ** _Chapter 1: 'Out of Touch'_**

Faggot Hell — the best place to send your son in hopes of de-gaying and holy-fying him. Known to the outside as Saint Jude's Homosexual-Recovery Camp, Ludwig knew what was in store for him the moment he stepped foot onto the dirt path that led to the Grand Cabin. His parents, of course, had practically pushed him and his things out of their station-wagon and barely wished him good luck before they had sped away in a cloud of pollution and air-borne mulch.

Ludwig rolled his eyes, looking at the hand-painted sign that half-hung on its wooden posts, and subsequently rolling his eyes again.

God was a little bitch. No, scratch that, the church was a bitch.

He had barely slung his black duffel bag onto his shoulder, and picked up his suitcase by its polished, faux-wood handle, when a bright voice made him look up again.

"Hello!" Ludwig's eyebrows raised in disbelief as he watched a fully-grown man _skip_ his way towards the entrance where Ludwig stood. The man's voice dipped in the middle of his greeting, making Ludwig think of how people would greet a dog on the street; all that was missing was the bone shaped biscuit and the 'good boy!' praises.

"Hello." The platinum blond mumbled under his breath, looking away as he tried to deter eye-contact with the man. Ludwig wondered why _he_ , specifically, had to be gay, and why _he_ , specifically, had to be _here._

"I'm Antonio Fernández Carriedo, and I'll be your counselor at Saint Jude's Homosexual-Recovery Camp this lovely summer!" Ludwig stifled a groan, only he would be given such _amazing_ conditions, plus this — this enthusiastic _man-thingy_ — to work with for a whole twelve weeks. He scuffed the ground with the tip of his shoe, his bottom lips partially stuck out in a reluctant pout.

"I'm Ludwig." He said, looking up finally, his shoulders slumped for the first time in years — he half expected his mother to jump out of the questionably trimmed bushes and scold him for doing so.

Antonio was wearing a pink dad polo, that was all Ludwig could describe the shirt as, and a pair of khaki shorts that seemed to have been harassed by too much starch, and held up by a cotton rope-belt that was colored in thin, red, blue, and white stripes. Ludwig's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline — and that was a feat, considering his hair was slicked back — as his eyes landed on a pair of old, crusty tennis-shoes with red socks sticking out over the top.

He pursed his lips, seriously considering legging it back to the city, when Antonio tilted his head to the right, a soft smile on his face. "Hi, Ludwig, I'm sure you'll have plenty of good, Christian fun at Saint Jude's, okay?" He tried to catch Ludwig's gaze, and grinned with a set of perfectly aligned, pearly-whites as he did.

Ludwig nodded, noticing that A) his counselor's eyes were _really_ green, and B) he might have been having an ulcer and going into cardiac arrest at the same time, for some reason. Antonio made a pleased sound, and Ludwig continued to observe that obvious color-blindness — because, that _outfit_ — did nothing to mute the _seriously green_ of the man's striking eyes.

Like, Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary; was he here to be un-gayed, or to secure his gayness?

"Ah," Antonio breathed embarrassedly, his tanned, freckled cheeks darkening with a rosy blush, "you caught me on a bad time — I was gardening when I saw you, I wanted to say hello." He scratched the back of his neck, eyes closed happily as his cheeks rose with a grin that was even dreamier than before.

Ludwig cleared his throat, feeling the tips of his ears turning pink. "Um..." he articulated, "where is my cabin?" He needed privacy and a porn mag, stat — but he knew that neither was to be expected, as neither was about to happen.

The counselor dropped his grin and nodded firmly, taking Ludwig's suitcase with a short protest from the blond, and beckoning him to follow the dirt path that led away from the Grand Cabin. He looked back at it longingly, wondering how much a desperate phone-call home and a bus-ticket costed in the middle of nowhere. He adjusted his duffel bag, chewing the inside of his bottom lip worriedly; what in the hell was he doing here?

"You'll be in cabin six," Antonio said, pointing to a cabin that sat on the edge of the woods and near another wooden structure with a carved-out crescent moon on it. "You've got three room-mates," he turned his head of messy brown hair to look at Ludwig, "Feliciano Vargas, Alfred Jones, and Kiku Honda." They reached the cabin door as Ludwig nodded slowly at the counselor, his worry increasing ten-fold.

Antonio knocked on the door, which seemed to barely be on its hinges, and it was ripped open by a short, nasty-faced, mahogany-haired boy, whose ears perked up and turned red at the sight of Antonio.

"Hey, Lovi," Antonio greeted pleasantly, much like he had to Ludwig, and stepped aside, allowing the blonde to be seen by the tiny, tanned red-head.

"Chigi!" The boy snapped, a verbal tick, Ludwig knew, there had been a Chinese kid in his school who had said 'aiyah' after every other sentence.

"Who's this, bastardo? A newbie? Pfft, typical." Ludwig blinked, the sent wafting from the cabin was like death incarnate, it smelled like cat piss and dried diarrhea. The red-head opened the door, though, and Antonio set the suitcase on the edge of the doorway, patting Ludwig's shoulder.

"I'm sure they'll explain what we expect here at Saint Jude's, oh, and dinner's in ten minutes." He directed the last part at the boy in front of Ludwig, who scowled at the attention.

Ludwig turned away from Antonio and his unitentionally beautiful eyes, and stepped in the cabin, immediately greeted with a round of collectively bored "hellos."

He nodded, whispering a greeting and his name back as he dropped his bag on the only bed left available, the bottom one on the bunk farthest from the window. The boy who had opened the door stood in front of Ludwig, hands on his hips.

"Welcome to Fag Funland, where happy times come to die," he began, draining Ludwig of any remaining hope. "I'm Lovino, I'm in cabin four, nearest to the kitchens — but don't come knocking, I won't answer." He pointed to a boy that was face-down on his mattress, and Ludwig wondered if he could breathe. "That's _mi fratello_ , Feliciano." He patted the bed above Ludwig's, making the blonde flinch back. "I dunno where Kiku went but he's got black hair and brown eyes, you'll know him when you see him."

Lovino scratched his head, tsk-ing and pointing a thumb over his shoulder to a third boy. "That's Alfred — self-righteous bastard, more like it. Don't let him bother you, he jerks off at random times, and will always say he's 'not gay,'" Lovino rolled his eyes and made air-quotes. "You'll get used to it."

Alfred seemed to take this to offense, as he shouted "hey" loudly and flicked a marshmallow at Lovino's head, the white puff bouncing harmlessly off of the tanned boy's voluminous hair. "I'm not gay," Ludwig vaguely heard Alfred mutter.

Lovino's eye twitched, and Ludwig tensed, ready for an outburst.

Thankfully, a loud snore from Feliciano broke the tension. Lovino sighed, "just follow the crowd to the kitchen when you hear the bell, okay?" He moved away from Ludwig, who inhaled deeply once his personal space was given back — a choice he regretted as the air had tasted like armpit.

The red-head paid no mind and opened the door with as much force as last time, "the outhouse is right there." He pointed outside the window, towards the wooden structure that Ludwig had seen before he entered the cabin. Ludwig stood up to ask some very critical questions about health regulations when the door slammed shut with a bang, the whole cabin shaking. Alfred's bunk rocked before settling, and Feliciano snored again, clutching his yellowing pillow closer.

Ludwig dropped his hand, a frown pinching his eyebrows into a furrow, and a part of him wanted to find Antonio and beg him to take him home, or, at least, to the city.

He sat back down on his thin, no-spring mattress, and he realized that he wasn't even half an hour into this little vacation.

"It's a blessing and a curse," the tall, honey-blonde boy, Alfred, said from where he was lounging on the top bed of the second bunk. His voice was commanding, and seemed like one that, if heard often enough, would get incredibly annoying. "When you gotta shit at night, you can climb through the window, easy access — but that means we gotta live with the smell until someone cleans it up." He flipped the page of his magazine, his eyebrows lifting as he went back to ignoring everyone, and he turned the magazine vertically, a wolf whistle leaving his lips alongside a muttered, "pure talent." Ludwig's eyes flickered to the magazine, which was a bright shade of pink.

Not gay — _yeah_ , right, and Ludwig could juggle fire.

Ludwig hadn't voiced his questions, but Alfred seemed to know, and Ludwig licked his lips nervously, his finger absently picking at the skin around his thumb.

The next six minutes was spent in silence, with Alfred's page-flipping and Feliciano's occasional snores being the only things to break it. Ludwig unpacked his duffel and his suitcase, folding the former and placing it in the latter, and then shoving the suitcase under his bunk.

Alfred finally jumped down from the bed with a grunt, lifting the mattress and stuffing his magazine under it haphazardly. Ludwig watched warily as the blonde fixed his glasses, smiled as he rubbed his palms together, and then slapped the ever-loving shit out of Feliciano, startling the poor boy into jerking awake and hitting his head on the roof of his bed — Ludwig jumped in horrified surprise, his hand touching his mouth before an expletive could leave it.

"Alfred," Feliciano whined as Ludwig's shocked hand lowered from his mouth. "Is it dinner yet?" The boy's chestnut hair was tussled, one curl sticking out, like Lovino's had. Ludwig took note of Alfred hissing and shaking his hand in the cold air, and the bright red, possibly bruising, handprint on Feliciano's face — it _had_ to have stung for both of them.

But they seemed unconcerned as Alfred smirked proudly at Feliciano — or more like the mark he had left on the boy's face. Feliciano smiled and stretched, oblivious to Alfred's pride.

Rubbing at his eyes with a fist. He opened them, their hazel coloration still glazed over by the side-effects of sleep, and gasped in surprise.

"Ciao," he said charismatically, extending a hand to Ludwig, who took it gently — it was tiny as heck! — and Feliciano grinned much like Antonio had, both of his hands covering Ludwig's one.

"I'm Feliciano, and you are?" Ludwig blinked, the swallowed thickly.

"I'm Ludwig."

"Ve," Feliciano purred, "Ludwig is a very nice name, it's German, no?" The blonde looked to Alfred for help, but the boy was packing a set of tupperware into a small drawstring bag, ignoring the rest of them. Feliciano noticed, and brought Ludwig's attention back to him by releasing his hand thirty seconds too late, and saying: "don't worry about Alfred, he isn't usually like this — but just wait until he's near Matthew."

Ludwig sighed, he honestly didn't care what Alfred was like, he just wanted out of this place.

The honey-blonde tugged on the bag, popping Feliciano upside the head with an emotive scowl for invading what Ludwig thought to be his private life. Personally, Ludwig thought that the expression he'd twisted his mouth into said more about his thoughts on the subject than Feliciano's words ever did.

Feliciano opened his mouth again to say 'ow' as he rubbed the back of his head tenderly, jutting out his bottom lip towards Alfred, who was already half-way out the door as a sharp, paring bell rang across the entire camp, making Ludwig look up at the ceiling in shock.

"Dinner bell!" Feliciano whooped, rushing past Ludwig, who followed him quietly, prepared for the worst.

Counselors were lining the pathways, directing the mostly lethargic boys towards a big, smelly mess hall as if they were stray cattle.

Alfred seemed to un-wilt beside him — if Feliciano's remark about his personality was to be trusted. Ludwig followed the shorter boy's gaze to another boy, this one taller than Alfred, with soft-looking blonde hair, and coke-bottle glasses.

That must've been Matthew.

"Mattie!" Alfred shouted, a smile hidden behind his hands that cupped at his mouth to amplify his voice. The boy didn't turn around, as he was being gestured to dramatically by a tall, scruffy, handsome boy, and scowled at by second, shorter, bushier one.

"Matt!" Alfred hustled his way through the lumbering crowd, shoving away multiple boys who said nothing, but grimaced behind his back. Ludwig looked around, there was no one he knew around. Feliciano had jumped ship earlier in the game, and Alfred had just ditched.

Ludwig blinked, the sun was harsh, beating down on the nape of his neck, warming his back through his dress-shirt. He noticed that no one else was wearing the same type of clothing as him, and it made him feel a little entitled.

"Konnichiwa." Ludwig almost jumped clear out of his skin as a short boy slid up to his side as they finally stepped into the crowded, loud mess hall.

"Jesus Christ," The blonde pressed a hand to his chest, staring wildly at the black haired boy near him. The boy had a bug in his hand and was turning the flailing creature around, analyzing it with an air of professionalism that Ludwig was partly wary and partly respectful of.

"I apologize," the boy stuck the bug in the pocket of his ten-sizes-too-big jacket, looking at Ludwig with brown eyes that seemed to be clearer than any blue Ludwig had ever seen.

Ludwig swallowed, nodding to show his companion that it was okay as they shuffled towards the lunch line, taking a plastic tray with a series of clatters. A wrinkly lady with fourteen chins and a large zit on her nose slapped a lump of brown.. something that had Ludwig grimacing.

She sneered at his expression, and tossed a small bread roll on his tray, the pushing of the other boys moving him along.

"I am Kiku," the boy Ludwig had almost forgot about said directly, and Ludwig nodded, extending a hand. "I'm Ludwig, your new bunk-mate, apparently." The boy was plain, and didn't stick out in the crowd like Antonio and Feliciano had.

Kiku didn't take the hand, but instead tilted his head in a semi-bow. They reached the end of the line, and Ludwig stared around aimlessly.

"We sit there," Kiku said next to him, and Ludwig noticed that everyone seemed to be shorter than he was at the godforsaken wasteland he was now stuck in.

The boy was pointing to a table that seemed to given a wide berth of space by the ones who didn't sit there, and Ludwig shrugged internally.

Where else would he sit? Bug-boy and the others hadn't been that bad so far.

"Okay," Ludwig followed him around the tables, and sat his tray down on the table-top with a sigh. His other two bunk mates were already seated, plus the two boys Ludwig had seen with Matthew.

There was a group of blondes near where Ludwig had placed his tray, and the one who had been chattering aimlessly stopped to smile up at him.

"Hey! You must be Ludwig. right? Feliciano was talking all about you! I'm Mathias Christian Khøler!" The exuberant boy stood, extending a hand to Ludwig, who recoiled at the sudden introduction. He vaguely heard Feliciano choke as he sped through conversation with the others, and resisted the urge to check on him.

Ludwig took the hand, giving it a firm, lawyer-like shake, his lips pulled into a thin, courteous smile. "All good, I hope," Ludwig said, ignoring the way the others were staring at him. Mathias yanked Ludwig closer, making the slightly shorter German lurch forward with an oof.

Five seconds later, Ludwig was let go, and he blinked confusedly, Mathias had been touching cheeks, as if this was Europe — Ludwig had almost forgotten the European way of greeting. He rubbed his right cheek, a blush heating his neck as he smile waveringly, making Mathias grin wider and drop Ludwig's hand.

The boy waved his own hand dismissively, "Feli couldn't say a bad thing about _anyone_!" Mathias smiled and pointed to the boy that was sitting near him, who batted away the finger.

"This is Lukas, he's my best friend," Mathias grinned, and Ludwig watched the emotions flutter across Lukas' face.

Horror, happiness, annoyance, and a tiny bit of longing. Hmm, Ludwig would have to stay away from that; it was a drama-pimple waiting to pop.

A fourth blonde sat down near the ash-blonde who introduced himself with a small, motherly smile as Tino, and ludwig took back what he said before.

This motherfucker was _tall_. Ludwig almost shat his trousers as the man sat down with barely a grunt in lieu of greeting.

"This is Berwald," Tino said softly, leaning on the boy's shoulder happily.

Ludwig sat down next to Tino with a cautious, wavering smile. The man-boy was two heads taller than Mathias, who was an inch taller than Ludwig at six-foot-one.

Berwald was on the very end of the table, Lukas sitting in front of him, with Tino to his right. Mathias' tray was placed in front of Ludwig's, but the boy was joking around with someone sitting on another table. Next to Mathias was Bug-boy — Kiku — and then Feliciano, who was poking the food with his plastic fork. Lovino was snapping off at the scowling, bushy-haired, and bushy-browed boy that sat across from him. Ludwig had seen with the taller boy who sat to Ludwig's right. At the end was Alfred, who was gesturing vibrantly to Matthew, who nodded every other second — Ludwig could see what Feliciano had been talking about.

He had never felt more out of place, it was surreal and _wild_.

Ludwig was about to address Feliciano, who was clinging off of Kiku — who looked quite uncomfortable — when Antonio spoke up from the stage.

The counselor was still in his 'gardening clothes' and Ludwig almost snorted, there was a splotch of dirt on his nose.

Lovino, on the other side of Feliciano, growled under his breath and put his head down, his ears lit up a deep red.

"Hello, campers! Welcome to another great day at Saint Jude's Recovery Camp! I know it's hard, but we will get through these times with the help of...?" Antonio clapped his hands together.

The entire mess hall chorused, in one dry, emotionless tone: "God and the saints of lost causes."

Ludwig was dumbstruck, who the fuck chose those patron saints for a hopeful 'gay-conversion camp?'

Antonio smiled winningly. "Good! Now, let us bow our heads in prayer." He dipped his head down, and the collection of boys did as well, some actually praying with closed eyes, while others — like Ludwig — were peering around, either snickering to themselves, or simply looking.

"Amen!" The counselor said, bringing his head back up with a sharp inhale. "After dinner you'll have two hours to yourselves before curfew!" Antonio stepped down from the stage, another counselor catching his eye and starting a conversation.

As the mess hall began to resonate with the sounds of boys tucking into their food, Alfred snorted, making Ludwig look up from the questionable brown sludge and at his bunkmate.

"Bro, that dude is as gay as the rest of us — _y'all_." Alfred laughed, almost nervously, looking around as some of the others laughed with him. Ludwig raised an eyebrow at Alfred as he reached over the table and patted Lovino's shoulder good-naturedly, "looks like you got a chance after all, dude!"

Lovino colored, mumbling something under his breath as he looked away. Alfred continued to tease the hazel-eyed boy, and Arthur, the bushy-browed boy, elbowed Alfred in the gut, shutting him up with a yelp. Matthew chuckled at that, though, and Ludwig knew Alfred probably would've whined if it wasn't for the laughter that his pain generated.

"You _do_ fall under the 'half your age plus seven' rule, so..." Francis, the scruffy, tall, blonde said, blowing on his nails uninterestedly as Lovino tsk-ed in frustration, his nose scrunching up as he glared at the — slightly dirty — counter top. Feliciano began to play table-soccer with a dried breadcrumb by himself, humming a soft tune that had Ludwig staring at him longer than was necessary.

The blonde tore his gaze away, staring down at his tray, which held the infamous pile of brown, textured slop, a small bowl of green jell-o, a bread roll, and a cup of water.

What. The. _Fuck_? What was this? An _internment camp?_

Well, Ludwig's mind conceded unhelpfully, it might as well have been — collecting young gay boys like this? Definitely fishy.

"It's steak and beans," Tino said, setting a kind hand on Ludwig's tense shoulder, "you don't have to eat it; come to cabin twelve anytime — before or after curfew — I can give you something better."

Ludwig nodded, his mind hazy from all of the interaction and the realization that he was basically in prison. Hell, they even had a _'goods-man,'_ and Ludwig didn't want to know _what_ else.

He was falling into hysterics. He was going to faint. God had abandoned him.

Ludwig stopped on his triage, considering that last point. In reality, God had abandoned Ludwig a long fucking time ago.

This was batshit _insane_ , Ludwig thought as his eyebrows furrowed and he watched Arthur fling some jell-o off of his fork and into Feliciano's water.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine, _mon ami_." Francis crooned next to him, painting his nails with a red color that smelled like chemicals. Ludwig briefly wondered where he got it from, then didn't, as Francis closed the bottle, waved his hand, and stuffed the polish into his pants. "Needed a touch-up," he explained unneededly, and Ludwig nodded, his throat dry.

Was everyone either so... so _charming_ or terrifying here? Ludwig wasn't, he knew that, Ludwig was awkward and needed a lesson on social interaction now.

"You don't talk much," the bearded boy said, his long hair falling over his shoulders in thick, golden waves.

"No, I don't." Ludwig agreed. Francis wasn't like Antonio — who was ruggedly handsome — he wasn't like Feliciano, who was cute and charismatic. Francis was _pretty._ It sacred Ludwig.

Ocean blue eyes looked at him in amusement, and then twinkled brightly. "Can I do your thumb? I'd usually try a new color out on Feliks, but 'e went... _away_ a couple days ago." The warble in Francis' voice brought Ludwig to attention.

Who was Feliks?

He looked, once again, at his tray, then at Francis' red nails, and finally at his own chewed up ones — at least his thumb didn't look _too_ bad.

"I-I bite them," Ludwig supplied, and Francis shrugged. "A nail is a nail, now give it here." He grabbed Ludwig's hand, blinking at it's broad size. Then, shaking his head as Ludwig fretted as if he'd disappointed the blonde, Francis let go and rummaged through his pants, pulling out an blue color happily.

"'s called _'Robin's Egg,'_ " Francis quipped. He shook the bottle, adjusting Ludwig's hand on the table and pulling his mouth into a concentrated frown as he painted Ludwig's thumbnail carefully. Ludwig's head shot up from its close observation of the process as multiple campers began to slide empty trays down the chute that lead to the kitchen, and Francis hummed.

"It's cute, _non_?" He asked, smiling as he stuffed the bottle back in his pants. "I can do the rest of them later, if you'd like." Ludwig smiled down at his thumb, then up at Francis.

"Thanks." He said sincerely.

Kiku was pushing a snoring Feliciano off of his shoulder, and Alfred was smiling at a blushing Matthew. Mathias had a dreamy gleam in his eyes as he looked up at Lukas from his where his head rested on his crossed arms. Berwald was staring blankly past them as Tino laid his head on the tall boy's arm, his eyes closed as he smiled. Lovino and Arthur were sniping at each other, both using insults Ludwig wasn't half-creative enough to think up.

He even thought he heard Arthur call the Italian a, "half-price Liberace-wannabe," and the insult had elicited an offended gasp from Lovino and a smug look from Arthur. Ludwig was just confused. He winced in empathy for Arthur, though, when Lovino shot back with a hissed, "crooked-toothed, tea-drinking, Churchill-fucker."

The bell rang again, and Antonio hopped on stage to wish them a good night, and remind them to pray. Ludwig was caught in the swarm of people once again, this time not getting parted from Alfred, who had brightened considerably after Matthew's company, and the two separated.

Ludwig almost snorted as the boy closed one last tupperware container full of color-mixed jell-o. Feliciano pranced around Kiku in circles, and the raven-haired boy was eyeing the trees as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

To him, Ludwig thought, they probably were.

Tino, Berwald, Mathias and Lukas had gone off towards the lake, where cabin twelve sat nearest to the shore. Arthur, Francis, and Matthew had left Ludwig and his bunk mates with loud laughter toward cabin four, Lovino following them after a moment.

The sky was darkening with each passing minute, twilight already enrapturing the camp and its patrons.

As he looked up at the softly glinting stars, his new-found friends and compatriots jeering at each other in the way only happy boys can, Ludwig had never felt more secure in his life.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Chapter 1 is done and I'm crying. Okay, who's ready for some gay angst in the next chapters?_


End file.
